


Master of Time: Installment One, The Lightning Thief

by TanninTele (orphan_account)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: De-Aged Harry, Gen, Hedwig Lives, M/M, Other, Post-Hogwarts, Powerful! Harry, They're only twelve for Salazar's sake, master of death! harry, possible slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 11:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7220002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TanninTele
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Greeks never saw him coming. </p><p>"Being a half-blood is dangerous. It's scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways---but the true Master of Death does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying."</p><p>Or, in which Harry Potter meets Percy Jackson, and they make an astronomical mess of America.</p><p>ABANDONED by me, and ADOPTED by Wildtrance on FanFiction<br/>Next chapter posted on her site</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A White Blob Nearly Beheads Me

****

**_MASTER OF TIME_ **

**_Installment One: Percy Jackson and the Olympians,_ **

**_The Lightning Thief_ **

**_by Tannin & Tele_ **

* * *

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters._

* * *

**Author's Note:**

_Firstly, a thousand thanks to my wonderful Beta tester(s), **LonerKid (from FanFiction),** who helped me realize that past tense _stays _in the past, and for_ _ **Lindsey7618 (from FanFiction)** and **Rosestream from FanFiction)'s** for their offers of help. If this first chapter goes over well, I hope you guys will still be willing to assist!_

 _Now, Dear Readers: As my first published working, I am still a bit insecure in my writing. To know that my story is being appreciated and met with good reviews, I'd love it if you would leave a comment, or follow and fave. Not too much to ask for, is it?_ _Anyways, t_ _he next chapter is still a W.I.P, but it'll be up eventually._

 _I'm very excited to insert Harry into the world of Percy Jackson, and if you have any questions, comments, or ideas for future chapters, I'm very fast at responding to and reviews...I'm literally_ always _on FanFiction, 14 hours a day, with 8 hours left to dream up new ideas._

 _I've never done an Author's Note before, so I hope I don't sound like_ too _much of a crazy person- but my alleged sanity is neither here nor there._

 _T_ _hanks for reading! -Tannin & Tele_

* * *

**_CHAPTER ONE_ **

**A WHITE BLOB NEARLY BEHEADS ME:**

_Yancy Academy, New York_

_Late Autumn, 2005_

Minutes before I caught my first glimpse of the strangest kid in existence- _excluding myself, of course_ \- I could easily be found in the Lunch Hall, brooding over a bowl of cereal. It was seven a.m on a frigid autumn day, and I was valiantly resisting the urge to dump my Cocoa Puffs over Nancy Bobofit's ginger head… just a regular Monday morning at Yancy Academy.

My name is Percy Jackson, and as of the past few months, I was a boarding student at a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York. Was I a troubled kid? Yeah. You could say that.

I'd been flunked, expelled, dismissed, and kicked out (all synonyms, I know) of at least six different schools across New York and Jersey in the last six years; the only kids I knew were criminals, gang members, juvenile delinquents, drop-outs, the mentally challenged...and Grover, but he's in a whole category of his own. Naturally, I fit in most all of those requirements, but that didn't mean I was a _bad kid._

I'm what my mom calls a 'trouble-magnet', a trait I apparently received from my estranged father's side of the family.

I could start at any point in my short, miserable life to prove that I solely exist to _fail_ , but I'd spare you the melodrama. Point in case, my _'errant tendencies'_ had landed me in so much trouble that if I killed someone- which _probably_ wouldn't happen, unless Nancy pushed me to the brink of insanity- I would have a novel-length book of school records and a dozen rankled school officials practically screaming _'GUILTY!'_.

More realistically, if I got kicked out of Yancy, I would end up on the state-wide blacklist. That meant no school, no scholarships, and no chance of government help. And if _that_ happened, my mom and I would be shit out of luck. While _I,_ personally, wouldn't mind missing school altogether, my mother would be devastated.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she is the best person in the world, which just proved my theory that the best people often had the rottenest luck. Her own parents died in a plane crash when she was five, and she was raised by an uncle who didn't care much about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent her high school years working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school during her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad, not even once, and I knew I wasn't an easy kid. She had always wanted the best for me, hence the fancy-pants schools and extensive therapy work.

I was not looking forward to her expression if I got expelled again, so this year I was determined to keep my peace… even among these wild, angsty _maniacs_ who insisted on ruining my breakfast.

My cereal had gone soggy, and I dipped my spoon into the darkened milk lazily, leaning against a palm. I had classes in ten minutes, and I was absolutely dreading my first hour. Because of my hyperactivity disorder and dyslexia, school teachers and I just don't get along on principle- but Mrs. Dodds was almost _unreasonable_ in her dislike for me.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was at _least_ fifty years old. She was cruel enough to ride a Harley right into your locker...which I really wouldn't put past her. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year, when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown. From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit (which made me think the old woman was a bit challenged in the head) and immediately decided I was devil spawn. Mrs. Dodds would point her crooked finger at me and say, _"Now, honey,"_ in a disgustingly sweet tone, and I knew I was in deep trouble.

Because of her overall repulsing attitude and disposition toward me, I was easily frustrated and distracted in her class- two things Mrs. Dodds just _loved_ to point out in front of my peers. And more recently, my greatest distraction kept me in a horrible mood- which didn't bode well for anyone. My best friend, Grover Underwood, was detained in the nurse's office, out cold.

Mr. Brunner had found Grover yesterday, all beaten up and unconscious in the janitor's closet by his office. I hadn't seen Grover since he ran off during dinner, his nose in the air and his behind shaking madly as he bolted out of the cafeteria. I'd wondered what his problem was, but he'd promised me he would be back _'later!'._

It was past curfew that night when I realized he still hadn't returned. Moving past my general dislike of authority, I had reluctantly informed the dormitory overseer of Grover's absence, thinking the worst.

Grover was an easy target for bullies. He was scrawny and short, cried when he got frustrated, and must've been held back several grades as he was the only sixth grader with acne and facial hair. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from gym for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked as though every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day last week.

His main offenders were the older kids, who were unreasonably cruel in their assessment of us underclassmen. Grover was an easy target to pick on, and so when he was left alone- without my protection- I tended to worry excessively about his well-being. I was a loner by nature, and while I got along okay with my year-mates, Grover was my only real friend. I think I'd miss him if I was expelled, if he even survived the week.

I was probably overreacting, but something seemed _fishy_ about his attack. I caught a glimpse of Grover as the nurses brought him to the infirmary on a cot, and he looked as though hell had warmed over. Now, I'd seen some pretty bad examples of bullying, but no _kid_ could do _that_ to another person.

While he was usually quite pale, Grover looked like a _corpse_ with blood matting his hair and his bruised limbs bent at the oddest angles. The nurses said he was lucky to have been found before he bled out.

I remembered fighting back bile as Mr. Brunner shuffled me back to the dorms, murmuring that _'all would be well'_. But there was another thing; I trusted Mr. Brunner more than any other teacher in the school, but last I checked, there _wasn't_ a janitor's closet by his classroom or office. So where had he found Grover? And if Grover was unconscious the whole time… how did Mr. Brunner know where to find him? I was no private detective- not with _my_ records- but even the dullest of my peers could sense that something was off. Not as though my peers actually _cared_ about Grover like I did.

Rubbing a hand across my face tiredly, I swiftly began collecting my things. Students were crowding by the door, waiting for the first bell to ring. Just as I was about to bring my tray to the garbage station, something caught my eye as it soared through an open window.

It was blurry at first, like a big white blob, but grew sharper as it veered closer. It was a large snowy owl, carrying a small parcel in its claws. The bird calmly swept past a group of kids, who didn't scream and duck as I expected- they barely gave it a second glance. I blanched at their lack of reaction, wondering in bewilderment: _'Is no one else seeing this?'_

The owl flew past my head and I ducked reflexively, nearly dropping my tray. I whipped around with an undoubtedly surprised expression as it landed on the table behind me. It dropped its package hastily, disrupting a glass of milk, which tipped across a boy's open book.

"Sweet Salazar, Hedwig!" The kid exclaimed, shoving away from the table- he toppled to the floor, but caught himself on the bench with lightning-fast reflexes.

The owl looked at the boy on the floor with twinkling amber eyes, as if almost _amused,_ before swiftly pecking a piece of bacon from his tray. The boy swept a small, bony hand through his dark bangs, giving me a glimpse of a red-rimmed scar on his forehead. It looked like a lightning bolt, contrasting darkly against his pale skin.

I examined the boy closely as he brushed the dirt off his uniform and was surprised to note that I'd never seen him before in my life. Not in classes, not in the hall, not at mealtimes- which was odd, because he had a face you just _couldn't forget_.

The nameless child sighed softly, glancing down at the _bird of prey_ eating off his plate, as if this was all perfectly normal _._ Rolling his eyes, he picked up his book by the pads of his thumb and forefinger and crinkled his nose at the dampened cover. Shaking out the pages out and nabbing a napkin from his tray, he gave the owl a faintly exasperated look.

"See here, Hedwig?" He complained, "This is why we can't have nice things."

The bird just stared, much in the same manner I was. _Owlishly._

* * *

_Late Autumn thru Late Spring, 2006_

Grover had quickly recovered, faster than I'd expected for the condition he was in. By the next night he had reappeared in the dorms, looking for all intents and purposes as though he _hadn't_ just been nearly beat to a pulp by a mysterious someone...or some _thing._

I watched him closely throughout the next few days, keeping an eye out for any sign of pain or injury. But besides the odd bruise here and there, Grover looked...well, about as normal as ever. Grover had always appeared a bit sickly and, you know, _crippled,_ regardless of the circumstances.

It had me confused to no end how he went from looking like a victim of the _Incredible Hulk_ to perfectly fine in just a few days time. My friend had upped his aversion skills, too; no matter what I asked or how I timed it, Grover refused to elaborate on his assault. I suppose I could have been more respectful of Grover's avoidance of the subject (his attack being a _'traumatic experience'_ and all that), but I was an endlessly curious preteen, and stubborn as a bull.

With Grover avoiding me, I had no chance to ask him about the mysterious new kid. Instead, I discreetly searched the halls and the Lunch Hall for a new underclassman with a British accent and a lightning-bolt scar. The boy _had_ to have been an underclassman, small as he was, but I hadn't heard any of the baby gossip-mongers chattering about him as they would any other new transfer.

After weeks of searching to no avail- and gaining a lot of raised eyebrows and strange looks for my prying- I was left wondering if I had perhaps imagined the boy and his bird. A stress-related hallucination, perhaps, which wasn't as uncommon as you'd think.

Autumn fell in Winter and before I knew it, I was halfway through my last trimester of the sixth grade. As my pile of unfinished school-work steadily rose and drama continued to ensue between myself and the two _'Let's-See-Who-Can-Force-Percy-Into-A-Murderous- Spree-First'_ club members, any lingering thoughts about the green-eyed boy and Grover's suspicious trip to the infirmary were shoved to the back of my mind.

It was late Spring when my unresolved questions finally resurfaced in full force, when Yancy Academy was given the exciting opportunity to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at archaic Greek and Roman stuff. I use the phrase _'exciting opportunity'_ loosely, as it was boring as sin…until I was nearly clawed to death by my algebra teacher turned winged demon.

But, really, this time I _swear_ it wasn't my fault.

...I blame Harry Potter.

* * *

_**TBC...** _


	2. IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE TWO-FACED, AT LEAST MAKE ONE OF THEM PRETTY

_**MASTER OF TIME** _

_**Installment One: Percy Jackson and the Olympians,  
The Lightning Thief** _

_**by Tannin & Tele** _

* * *

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters._

* * *

_Thanks to my Beta-tester, **Rosestream (from FanFiction)**_

* * *

**_CHAPTER TWO_ **

**IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE TWO-FACED,** **  
AT LEAST MAKE ONE OF THEM PRETTY.**

_Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York_

_Late Spring, 2006_

Mr. Brunner had led the museum tour, guiding us through galleries and halls decorated with marble busts of naked men, obsidian pottery and engraved stones. Usually, I would have been paying rapt attention (alright, that might be stretching the truth a _bit)_ to Mr. Brunner's objective commentary, if not for the hindrance that was my chattering peers.

Mr. Brunner had gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top and told us how it was a grave marker, a _stele_ , for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides and I had to shush the kids around me. A boy, standing only about a foot away, had snickered lightly when Mrs. Dodds gave me the evil eye.

I glared at him sideways...and swallowed a gasp.

 _H_ _e was here._ The strange, scarred boy had returned, and he was _standing right in front of me_. I discreetly stared at the back of his raven-haired head, dying to get a glimpse of his face. As if reading my thoughts, he shifted sideways, brushing back a lock of dark hair.

The boy was short- the smallest in his year, I'd gather- and had chin-length, feathered black hair. He was just as striking as I remembered, although wearing a rather bored expression on a childishly soft face. His bright green eyes were concealed by a horrendous pair of round glasses, which kept slipping down his nose. The boy seemed to ignore Mr. Brunner's speech in favor of flipping through his novel-length book, which I vaguely registered as being written in ancient Latin. Who brings a _book_ on a field trip?

And, more importantly, how the _hell_ did he manage to hide from me from over half the year, only to appear _now?_

Mr. Brunner kept talking about Greek funeral art while Nancy Bobofit snickered something vulgar under her breath about the naked man on the _stele_. I turned around sharply, my irritation clear. "Will you shut up?" I snapped.

It had come out louder than I meant it to, and the group laughed uproariously. My face had flushed a deep red, and the dark-haired boy glanced up from his book with an unreadable expression. Meanwhile, Mr. Brunner had stopped his story. "Mr. Jackson," he said in a low voice. "Did you have a comment?"

My throat constricted in embarrassment. "N- _no_ , sir." I stammered out. Mr. Brunner's eyes narrowed minutely, and he pointed to one of the pictures on the _stele_. "Well...perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?

I glanced at the carving desperately, and let out a breath of relief. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?" I hesitantly asked.

"Yes," Mr. Brunner drawled, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this _because_..."

I shifted in place nervously, trying to remember. "Well...Kronos was the king god, and-"

"God?" Mr. Brunner lifted an eyebrow. "Titan," I corrected myself. "And ... he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters. Then there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans..." I trailed off, "and the gods won."

Behind me, Nancy was mumbling to a friend. "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, _'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'_ "

Mr. Brunner, who seemed to have unnatural hearing, lowered his dark gaze to the redhead. "And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner said loudly, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

Nancy blushed almost as red as her hair, and I caught _the boy_ coughing lightly into his hand as if concealing a laugh. I wanted to scoff at him, but Mr. Brunner was clearly waiting for an answer. I bit my lip, blushing, and shrugged. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looked disappointed and turned his wheelchair back to face the carving. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead the class back outside?"

The group began to drift off, and _the boy_ followed lazily behind them. I wanted to follow, shove him against the wall and shake him for answers- _figuratively_ , of course- but Mr. Brunner called me back. I told Grover, who looked strangely solemn, to go on ahead.

I turned back to Mr. Brunner, rocking back and forth on my heels in impatience. Mr. Brunner had this look in his eyes, both dark and wise; it almost made me want to run the other way, but the man wasn't particularly threatening in his tweed jacket and wheelchair. "Sir?" I asked nervously, clearing my throat.

"You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner told me in a low voice, rolling his chair forward. He was close enough so that his knees almost touched my own, and I took an involuntary step back, frowning.

"About the Titans?" I asked him.

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it. What you learn from me, Mr. Jackson," he had said, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, _Percy Jackson_."

My eyes widened a fraction at the way he spoke my name, before the rest of his sentence caught up to me.

 _'Jeez, no pressure there, Mr. Brunner,'_ I thought bitterly. He always pushed me so hard, more than any teacher I'd ever had.

I mean, sure, he could be rather entertaining in class; dressing in a Roman suit of armor, challenging us sword-point against chalk to run up to the board and list all we knew about a certain Roman hero, letting us watch old mythological movies on every second Friday- but Mr. Brunner had these _expectations_ for us. Me, especially.

He wanted the impossible; for me to be as good as everyone else. No- wait. He didn't expect me to be _as_ good; he expected me to be _better,_

The man was a great teacher, but when it came to having expectations for someone like _me,_ he was going to be solely disappointed. I mumbled something placating in response, and he dismissed me lightly, staring wistfully back at the _stele..._ as if he'd been to her funeral or something.

I exited post-haste, pushing the strange interaction to the back of my mind and instead focusing on the more pressing matter.

* * *

"For heaven's sake, Percy...you've been staring at him for the last ten minutes. Go and _talk_ to him already!"

I startled out of my staring session at Grover's voice, dodging a light shove aimed for my shoulder.

The class had gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue. Overhead, a huge storm was brewing, black clouds hovering over the skyscrapers. They were darker than any other storm-cloud I'd ever seen, and I figured it was global warming or something.

The weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas; we've had massive snow storms, flooding, and wildfires from lightning strikes.

I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in, but no-one else seemed to notice the strange weather...except for _him._

I had returned from the building a while ago, and after assuring Grover that I hadn't gotten detention, we took a seat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others.

My sandwich had been left untouched as I unabashedly watched the strange boy sitting in the shade of a tree.

He was eating something that looked like a slice of pie out of a plastic container, his book bag leaning casually against his side. The large Latin book he had perused earlier was balancing on his knee and he flipped through the pages, green eyes partially glazed. His dark hair was windswept, cheeks flushed against the wind as he picked distractedly at his dessert.

He kept glancing up at the sky worriedly, a frown deepening as he watched the dark clouds rumble in the distance.

I had wanted to approach him. I had _so_ wanted to approach him, and from the way Grover was looking at me (clearly unimpressed with my fidgeting), he could tell.

I was about to stand when Nancy appeared in front of me with her _posse_ of equally unpleasant-looking girls. Grover paled drastically, and _the boy_ glanced over at us, green eyes flashing with curiosity.

Temporarily distracted by Nancy's presence, I had opened my mouth to demand what she wanted when she nonchalantly tipped her lunch-box and dumped the half-eaten contents onto Grover's lap.

" _Oops._ " She drawled, smirking.

My mind went blank, and I tried to stay calm...needless to say, it didn't work.

A roaring wave sounded in my ears, and while I didn't remember touching her, the next thing I knew, Nancy had tipped forward into the fountain and was soaked from head to toe.

"Percy pushed me!" She squealed loudly, after sitting out a mouthful of water.

I stood, shaking in place as Mrs. Dodds appeared to pamper her star student while Grover looked as though he was about to swoon. I tried to ignore the whispers around me and debated the merits of making a run for it.

If I grabbed a taxi now, I could probably make it to my mom's apartment before they called the school. She'd hug me tightly and fondly brush the hair from my eyes- _'you need a haircut, kiddo'-_ but she'd be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again.

I swallowed tightly at the thought.

 _"Did you see-"_ my peers said around me. _"-The water-" "-like it grabbed her-"._

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

My gaze darted over to the green-eyed boy, who had stood as soon as Nancy misplaced her food. He was staring at me with unreadable eyes, holding something long and stick-like in his right hand.

The boy averted his eyes as I caught him staring, and tucked it- whatever _it_ was- up into his sleeve, turning his eyes to something beyond my shoulder. His nose wrinkled, as though he smelt something unpleasant.

I snapped out of my reverie as Mrs. Dodds growled behind me; there was a triumphant fire in her eyes, and she sneered slowly- well, to be correct, it was more of a snarl. "Now, _honey-_ " she began, voice grating.

"I know," I grumbled, looking down at my shoes. "A month erasing workbooks."

That clearly wasn't the right thing to say. "Come with me," Mrs. Dodds said, her voice sounding both saccharine and menacing as she beckoned me forward with a long-nailed claw- pardon me, _finger._

"Wait!" Grover yelped suddenly, grabbing my shoulder. "It was me. I pushed her," he said, voice cracking.

I stared at him, astonished. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me; Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death, even more so than Nancy. Both of them glared at him, and _if_ _looks could kill..._ "I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," Mrs. Dodds said darkly.

"But-"

"You _will_ stay here!" She had hissed suddenly, and Grover took a step back, chin quivering. He glanced at me desperately, watery eyes pleading.

"It's okay, man," I reassured him, throat tight at the half-lie. "Thanks for trying, anyway."

" _Honey,_ " Mrs. Dodds drawled. "Now!" Nancy smirked _evilly_ at me as I hurried after Mrs. Dodds, anticipation building in my chest.

A pair of bright green eyes followed my figure, lips pursing slightly in indecision. The boy unconsciously stroked the thin, sleek piece of wood sticking out of his sleeve, and stood up quickly, making to follow.

His hand twitched almost imperceptibly, and Grover, meanwhile, fell into a dead faint- whether by his own according or not, we'll never know. Nobody seemed to notice these two events, except one man in a umbrella-clad wheelchair.

* * *

I had followed Mrs. Dodds deeper into the museum, and when I finally caught up to her, we were back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty, the silence almost deafening. Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods, a strange noise rising in her throat. Almost like a growl.

I inched away slowly but she followed instantly, almost in sync with my own movements. This occurred a couple times before she broke out with a snarl. "You've been giving us problems, honey," she said, twisting her lips in a sneer. I did the safe thing, opting for cordiality.

"Yes, ma'am," I said politely, taking another step back.

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket irritably and stalked closer. "Did you really think you would get away with it?" Her eyes flashed.

 _'She's a teacher,'_ I thought, wary at the maniac look in her eyes. ' _She's not going to hurt me...she'd get fired.'_ "I'll-I'll try harder, ma'am," I forced out as thunder shook the building.

"We are not fools, _Percy Jackson_ ," Mrs. Dodds spat my name, making me flinch. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain." I didn't know what she was talking about; all I could think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without reading the book and were going to take away my grade- or worse, make me actually _read_ the book.

 _"Well?"_ she demanded, putting hands on her hips.

"Ma'am," I began slowly. "I don't..."

Her head jerked up, and she cut me off with a hiss. _"Your time is up."_ And in that split second, as her eyes began to glow like burning cinders and her fingers became long, razor-sharp talons, I knew I was done for.


	3. The Furies Are Severely Inefficient At Their Job

_**MASTER OF TIME** _

_**Installment One: Percy Jackson and the Olympians,  
The Lightning Thief** _

_**by Tannin & Tele** _

* * *

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters._

* * *

**_CHAPTER THREE_ **

**THE FURIES ARE SEVERELY INEFFICIENT AT THEIR JOB:**

_Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York_

_Late Spring, 2006_

As Mrs. Dodds suddenly sprouted a set of leathery wings, my thought process consisted of mostly incoherent screams and a slew of curse words that would make a nun blush. Mrs. Dodds definitely wasn't human, that much was for sure. Her fang-like teeth were crooked and yellow, her skin wrinkled like a plucked chicken and her talons razor-sharp. Her claws glinted in the skylight, and I decided a tactical retreat was in order.

She lunged at me and I ducked, slipping past her.

"Need a little help?" came a smooth British accent from the arched doorway of the exhibit. _The boy,_ with his blazing emerald eyes stepped out of the shadows. He looked strangely at peace in the archaic, renaissance-esque architecture, his alabaster skin glowing ethereally as he entered the light.

I would have appreciated the sight more if he wasn't currently blocking the only path to the door.

"Ah!" Mrs. Dodds cackled, as she caught sight of the boy. "Another demigod, conspiring against my master?"

The boy scoffed lightly, crossing his arms. "I _am_ your Master, you bitch."

Mrs. Dodds looked dangerously affronted, and I couldn't believe his nerve.

" _Run!"_ I screamed, glancing backwards as Mrs. Dodds swooped towards us, screeching like a bat _._ I careened past the boy and, in a last second decision, snatched up his thin arm. I yanked him along with me, ignoring his sounds of protest. "We need to get out of here!" I told him as I heard a crash from the Greek exhibit. Fortunately for us, it seemed Mrs. Dodds was a little out of practice with her flying skills.

Her crash bought us a few seconds of time, and I steered us towards where I thought an exit lay. We stumbled past an old Egyptian sarcophagus and immediately hit a dead end. Frantic, I spun us in a circle, looking for another way out that didn't involve smacking right into the path of my homicidal math teacher. "We're lost!" I gasped, clutching my side. "She's going to kill us!"

"Wait, wait! I have an idea," the boy said, patting his pockets suddenly. Shedding his outer jacket, he pulled out a ballpoint pen from his uniform pocket. "I _knew_ breaking into Brunner's office last trimester would pay off," he mumbled distractedly to himself.

"That was _you?!_ " I asked in disbelieve. He ignored my astonishment and passed the pen over, carefully setting it into my open palm.

"Take this to defend yourself," he told me seriously. "It's a very powerful weapon."

I eyed the pen warily, flinching as another screech came from the hall. I stared at him like he had grown another head. "This is a pen," I told him, panic rising in my chest. "This is a _pen!"_

The boy ignored me as he brought forth a black beanie from his back pocket, opening it and reaching a small hand inside. With a sharp pull, a golden sword hilt decorated with glimmering rubies was revealed and I nearly dropped the pen in surprise as he leveled out the three-foot silver blade.

"Wha-" I gaped, gormless.

"Not everything is as it seems," the boy told me with an amused smirk, just as Mrs. Dodds caught our scent, screaming in victory. "Now, quickly!" he urged. I stared at him blankly, as if he was speaking another language.

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Merlin, what do you _do_ with a pen? Just click it!"

I did as told and watched before my eyes as a bronze sword erupted into my hand. It fit surprisingly well in my grasp and a sensation of _rightness_ traveled up my arm. "...Holy shit." I said, turning the sword and watching as the blade glinted dangerously in the light.

"Yes," the boy agreed.

Suddenly, Mrs. Dodds came diving into the room before promptly smacking a wing against the sarcophagus. She jolted clumsily to the side and my companion snickered loudly into his hand. "Clumsy chit," he muttered, before raising his voice.

"Fly much?" he taunted, and Mrs. Dodds eyes flashed red as she straightened herself. She flew at us with a scream and absolute terror ran through my body. I dropped my sword in fear while _the boy_ \- with his blazing eyes and aura of darkness- lifted his weapon. With a wry smile aimed at the raving beast, he lurched forward and killed her with a single jerk of his arm.

I kneeled over abruptly and began to loose my lunch.

* * *

_Later_

"This is all your fault, you know," I mumbled darkly under my breath, shifting uncomfortably against the small body beside my own.

"So you've said," Harry said idly, flipping through his book with an amused gleam in his eyes. After I had screamed at him for a full minute and a half (once I had gotten over my nausea), I had asked for his name so I could damn it to hell. I was a bit surprised at the _commoness_ of his name, although Harry Potter was anything but common.

Now, as I turned to face my 'bus buddy', I glared down at him with a firmly set jaw. "You know, if you hadn't taunted her-" I began again, voice accusatory.

"-she would have still attacked you," Harry finished sharply, slamming his book shut. "Regardless of whether I 'taunted' her or not. You know, Percy, you could at least act a _bit_ grateful; I saved your arse, and you repay me by shooting out these _accusations_ -"

"But I didn't _need_ saving," I protested, crossing my arms indignantly. "If you weren't in the way, I could have gotten away _without_ you killing her-"

Harry snorted. "Doubtful," he said, his tone dripping with contempt. "You would have died without help. She was a _beast,_ and you, a wiry _twelve year-old_ _boy_ -" (To which I replied, "But you're _younger_ than me!") "-with a vast unlucky streak, would be nothing more to her than an afternoon snack. But, thanks to my bloody great timing, you _aren't_. And if you had any tact, you'd be thanking me instead of _complaining_ about how I managed it."

Pursing my lips at the overly patronizing lilt to his voice, I leaned my pounding head against the cool window, grumbling under my breath.

I closed my eyes and tried not to remember the way Harry's sword had sliced through Mrs. Dodds' front and jutted out between her winged shoulder blades. It had killed her instantly. Black sludge- _'monster blood'_ , Harry had explained- had erupted from her torso before Mrs. Dodds disintegrated with a spine-chilling scream. As I had barfed in the corner, Harry had retrieved the pen...sword... _thing_ from besides me, and managed to somehow clean up the mess Mrs. Dodds had made. I tried to remember how he had fixed the broken artifacts and slashed walls, but every time I tried to recall the details, the memory seemed to slither from my metaphorical grasp.

And I wasn't the only one with missing memories. Everyone, void Harry and myself, was acting as though Mrs. Dodds had never even existed; and it was scaring the shit out of me! Even Harry had seemed surprised at our classmate's overwhelming ignorance.

All the more, a new chaperone, Mrs. Kerr, had appeared out of thin air, and my best friend, Grover was acting startlingly suspicious.

At first, Grover had mother-henned me as I hobbled out of the museum while Harry had lagged a few steps back, as if attempting to hide behind me. Harry had slipped on a seamless mask of nonchalance as I attempted to explain our skirmish with the algebra teacher to my distressed friend, and coughed rudely as I...may have...embellished the story a _little_ bit. Only a little.

Grover, in response, had garishly fumbled over his words as he tried to tell me that, apparently, Mrs. Dodds didn't exist- which I knew was _bullshit._ Upset by his obvious deception, I turned to find Mr. Brunner by his tree, only to find that our Latin teacher had...disappeared.

As I looked, I missed the subtle twitch of Harry's hand. Not two minutes later did Mr. Brunner return from the building, his hair slightly ruffled and a wheel on his wheelchair angled the wrong way. All of my questions were halted as I saw him calmly speaking with the new chaperone, acting as though nothing overly peculiar had occurred in the past hour.

With everyone else acting strange, I probably would have thought myself crazy if not for Harry's constant (albeit annoying) presence.

It was a big change from the past year where I wasn't even sure he _existed_ to have him acting as though we were the best of friends. It was kind of creepy, to be honest, but Harry served as a harsh reminder that I wasn't insane.

Grover, on the other hand, was avoiding Harry and I like the Bubonic Plague _._ My best friend was currently hiding at the front of the bus, sitting stiffly next to a muscular boy with a curly black 'fro.

Grover continued to take furtive glances towards us, a fact that neither I nor Harry missed. Grover made his distrust for Harry very clear when I had tried to introduce the two, only to have Grover stare at the green-eyed boy with fearful eyes before slowly retreating with a _'Percy, can I speak to you...alone, please?'_ To summarize, our conversation wasn't very pleasant.

I found it very uncharacteristic of Grover to judge Harry's presence so quickly, but truth be told...I didn't much trust Harry, either.

I was suspicious, _incredibly_ suspicious of who Harry was, where he came from, and what his motives were for helping me. There was, also, the problem of his _magic sword,_ which he refused to explain to me.

 _"It's magic,"_ he had merely shrugged, which didn't answer much.

I don't know when, exactly, we had crossed the barrier between friends and strangers (emphasis on _strange),_ but by the time I noticed that I'd stopped being irritated with his presence and began anticipating our unsystematic encounters later into the school year, it was too late for me to back out.

Our interactions in the following days were mostly awkward, but I couldn't really find it in myself to get rid of him. He was the only person other than myself at Yancy who knew that something strange was going on and was willing to actually _talk_ about it. Grover and Mr. Brunner were having secret rendezvous (Harry offered up some rather vomit-inducing theories to explain them), Mrs. Kerr was incredibly strange to be around (I was just _waiting_ for her to change into some hybrid-monster-person- _thing_ and attack me), while Nancy, the victim of the peculiar water-grabbing, was still a little bitch.

Harry, though, was a single beam of light in the darkness.

Was I grateful for his help, back at the museum? Well, yes, but I'm too stubborn to admit that.

Was I incredibly annoyed by his inscrutable and bizarre attitude? Absolutely.

But was I insane to kind of _like_ Harry, despite all this?

...I wasn't entirely sure.


	4. One Hoof in Front of the Other

_**MASTER OF TIME** _

_**Installment One: Percy Jackson and the Olympians,  
The Lightning Thief** _

_**by Tannin & Tele** _

* * *

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters._

* * *

**_CHAPTER FOUR_ **

**ONE HOOF IN FRONT OF THE OTHER:**

_Manhattan, New York_

_Early Summer, 2006_

"If you want to get away without your hanger-on, I suggest running before he gets back from the loo." Harry had informed me as Grover went dashing off to the bathroom, his bladder acting up. Again. I should feel bad for following Harry's advice, but I probably would have ended up ditching Grover with or without Harry's input.

I know, I know. It was rude. But Grover was freaking me out, even more than usual.

The bus from Yancy had broken down on the highway, and we were forced to evacuate next to a lone fruit stand with three creepy ladies guarding it. The women had stared at me the entire time with wide, pale eyes that seemed to read into my very soul- which, after Mrs. Dodds ordeal, rubbed me the wrong way. Grover was very, very anxious after the encounter, while Harry just watched on bemusedly. None of them had much to say on the subject, other than vague mutterings on Grover's part about: _"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth."_

Grover had pleaded for me to let him walk me home from the bus station, and I couldn't say _no_ to those big, watery doe eyes, could I? But...yeah, I ditched him. _Oops._

As for my other friend; well, when I glanced back after boarding the taxi (on it's way to East One-hundred-and-fourth and First), I could see Harry waving goodbye from a wide window, eyes glistening with veiled humor. I lifted a hand to return the sentiment when a car rolled past, and Harry was gone with a blur of black and green.

* * *

_Montauk, New York_

I woke with a start.

Lightning was crashing outside of our cabin, the kind of storm that breaks oak trees into splinters and blows down houses. There were no animals on the beach, just lightning making false daylight and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. With the next thunderclap, my mom awoke with a jolt. She stared at me, breath catching as lightning flashed above us.

"Hurricane," she told me.

I knew that was crazy; Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer, but the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end. Then came a much closer noise; a desperate voice. Someone was yelling, pounding frantically on our cabin door. My mother jumped out of bed, nightgown trailing against the floor, and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. I stared in bewilderment as he struggled to slam the door shut behind him. "Searching all night," he gasped, clutching his side. "What on _Gaia's good Earth_ were you thinking, Percy?!"

My mother looked at me, startled, and began wringing the fabric of her gown _._ "Percy..." she started warily. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I couldn't speak for fear of her reaction, although she seemed pretty chill about Grover's sudden appearance _in the middle of the night._ " _O Zeu kai alloi theoi!_ It's right behind me!" he suddenly shouted as a roar sounded outside, his voice sounding strange. "Why didn't you _tell_ her?"

My mom looked at me darkly, and spoke in a tone she only used on Gabe's ugly friends when they pressed their cigarettes butts into the couch cushions. " _Percy!_ " she demanded. "Tell me now!"

I stammered something unintelligent about the fruit stand, Mrs. Dodds, Harry and his sword; all-the-while trying to down-play the scary parts, but failing miserably. She paled to that of a corpse, and in an instant she had grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go!"

Grover ran for the Camaro while I staggered behind, watching his gait. Grover wasn't really... _r_ _unning._ It was more of a trot, really. I glanced down at his feet, and felt my face go green. I'd been too shocked to register it before, but where Grover's feet should be were... _cloven hoofs._ He wasn't human. He was...he was part _goat._

Horror registered in my expression. _"-_ what the _hell!_ "

 _"Percy, now is not the time!"_ My mother screamed at me.

* * *

Wind rattled the Camaro and rain splattered against the wind-sheild as we tore through the night.

I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot plastered to the accelerator. The silence was deafening, and all I could think to say through the pounding of my head was was, "So, do you and my mom... know each other?"

Grover's eyes flitted anxiously to the rearview mirror, although there were no cars behind us. "Not... _exactly_ ," he hedged. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you."

" _Watching_ me?" I asked, feeling a bit affronted. "What does _that_ mean?"

"Keeping tabs on you." Grover clarified. "Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend," he added hastily. "I _am_ your friend."

Hiding my relief, I cleared my throat. "Okay, but... what are you, exactly?"

"That doesn't matter right now." Grover interjected nervously, forcing his eyes away.

A strangled noise erupted from my throat. "It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is a _donkey_ -"

Grover let out a sharp, throaty bleat. "Blaa-ha-ha! _Goat!_ " He cried indignantly. "I'm a _goat_ from the waist down."

"You just said it didn't matter." I pointed out.

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Percy? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth? Was Harry a myth?"

"So you admit there was a Mrs. Dodds." I said, crossing my arms. "You told me Harry was just tricking me. You made me think I was crazy."

"...yes."

I paused, unsure if I should be angry or not. "Then why-"

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract," Grover said flatly, like that should be perfectly obvious.

"Harry said the exact opposite." I said, irritated. "He said that they'd come anyways, _'regardless of my astonishing ignorance'._ But he also called you a _'gormless pillock_ _',_ " I conceded. "Whatever that means."

"You shouldn't trust him." Grover told me huffily. "He smells weird, and he hurt Mr. Brunner...we think."

"You _think_ he hurt Brunner?" I asked wryly. "And he _smells_ weird? Maybe like a regular, B.O. riddled teenage boy? Quite the assurance you have, there."

Grover glared. _"Anyways,_ we had hoped that you'd think the Kindly One was just a hallucination. We put the Mist over the humans' eyes, but it was no good. You started to realize who you are. Even more, the Mist didn't work on Harry- which just _proves_ he's untrustworthy," he added.

"Who I am?" I asked in bewilderment, ignoring his bellyaching. He'd been complaining about Harry for months now. "Wait a minute, what do you mean?"

A bellow erupted somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing Grover was right on our trail. I began twitching in my seat, hoping that this was all just a bad dream. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," my mom said from the front seat. She never once tore her eyes from the road, not even to brush back the hair in her face. "But there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety."

"Safety from what? Who's after me?"

"Oh, nobody much," Grover said moodily, obviously still flustered. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions."

"Grover!" My mom didn't much appreciate his sarcasm, and made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses, wooded hills and _PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES_ signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" I asked her anxiously, craning my neck to peer through the rain-splattered window.

"The summer camp I told you about." Her voice was tight and strangled. "The place your father wanted to send you."

"The place you didn't want me to go." I accused, voice sharp.

"Please, dear," my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. _You're in danger._ "

"I've been in danger for a long while, Mom! Harry had to save me from Mrs. Dodds by _killing_ her, and he told me that those old ladies who cut the yarn-"

"Those weren't old ladies," Grover interrupted. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means, the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to...when someone's about to die."

"...But Harry said-"

"Enough about Harry!" Grover snapped. "You only met him a few months ago and all of a sudden it's _'Harry this'_ and _'Harry that'_. I'm your best friend, Percy! Can't you just _trust_ me for once?"

I scoffed at him, defensive. "Harry's been a hell of a lot more trustworthy in these last months that _you_ have! At least he's telling me what he knows!"

"He shouldn't _know_ anything, Percy, that's the point! And the fact that he _does_ means he's _one of them_! Or worse!"

"One of _what?!_ For God's sake, Grover, can't you give me a straight answer for once?!"

"If I _could,_ I _would-"_

"Boys!" my mom interjected as our voices rose. She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid.

"What was that?!" I demanded, in a panic. "That looked like-"

"We're almost there," my mother soothed, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please, please, please." I didn't know where ' _there'_ was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive.

For some reason, I began wishing for Harry's presence. He wasn't a _calming_ person, by any means- but at least he was adept at _explaining,_ and possibly fighting whatever large creature was stalking us. Then I remembered Grover's weariness regarding him.

Could I really trust him? Harry wasn't a trustworthy person by most standards, but in the last few months of school, I began to consider him a close friend- closer than Grover, even. Then again, I thought I could trust Grover, and he turned out to be half fucking _goat._

Before I could even consider asking Grover, again, about his _furry little problem,_ the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling _BOOM,_ and our car exploded. I remember feeling weightless, and yet constricted by the tight belt across my front. My eyes rolled up momentarily, and I thought I could hear screaming- _my_ screaming. And before I knew it, the darkness had both ascended upon and disappeared all at once, and the ringing in my ears had ended.

I peeled my forehead off the back of the driver's seat, and pressed a hand into my bleeding chin. I seemed to have smacked it on something, although I couldn't for the life of me recall _what_. "Ow." I said lightly, and startled as my mother called out for me.

I shook off the daze, shakily pressing my hand into her nearby shoulder. "I'm okay." I told her. "Are you?"

The car hadn't really exploded- we'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's side doors were wedged in the mud, and the roof had cracked open, rain pouring in. Lightning; that was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road.

"Yes." My mom said finally, glancing back at us. "Grover?"

Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!" I exclaimed, unbuckling quickly and moving over to cradle his head. He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, _'No! Even if you are half barnyard animal and crazy, you're my best friend and I don't want you to die!'_

Then he groaned " _Food..._ " and I knew there was hope.

I glanced up to my mother, seeing fear in her eyes. She struggled to speak, tears tracking silently down her cheeks. "Percy, we have to ..." Her voice faltered, and I followed her gaze. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. It was huge. It was monstrous. It was...a bull?

"Is that-?" I choked.

"Percy," my mother said seriously, quickly unbuckling. "We need to get out. Climb out the passenger's side!" We struggled to crawl across the seats, Grover moaning all the while. "Percy, you have to run," my mom said, pointing. "Do you see that big tree?" There was another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof, I saw the tree she meant: a huge, hulking pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"That's the property line," she informed me. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door."

"Mom, you're coming too," I said, voice pitching as I watched her eyes sadden. "No, no!" I demanded. "You _are_ coming with me. Help me carry Grover."

"He doesn't want us," my mother told me, tearful. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line."

I tried to protest, but she reached a hand over to brush back my matted hair. "We don't have time, Percy. Go. Please."

I got mad, then; mad at my mother, at Grover, at my absentee father for leaving us, when we could have used a man in charge. But he wasn't here.

 _I_ was, though, and I wasn't leaving my own _mother-_ my only _family_ to be demolished by that damned bull-man's massive fists. I climbed across Grover and pushed the door open into the rain. "We're going together. Come on, Mom."

"I told you-"

 _"Mother!"_ I shouted. "I am not leaving you _._ Help me with Grover."

Not waiting for an answer, I scrambled outside, dragging Grover from the car. He was surprisingly light, but I couldn't have carried him very far if my mom hadn't come to my aid. Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and began stumbling uphill through wet, waist-high grass.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was taller than the tallest basketball player, his arms and legs like tree trunks. He wore no clothes except underwear- and, I mean, bright white _Fruit of the Looms,_ which would've been funny in any other circumstance. _Any_ other circumstance.

Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button, and got thicker as it reached his shoulders. His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, cruel black eyes, and horns. Big, huge-ass horns.

I recognized the monster, all right. He had been in one of the first stories Mr. Brunner told us.

"And that's-"

"Pasiphae's son," my mother told me, grimacing as we struggled up the slope. "I just wish I'd known how badly they wanted to kill you."

"But he's the _Min_ -"

"Don't say his name," she snapped, eyes flashing. "Names have power."

The pine tree was still way too far; a hundred yards uphill at least. I glanced behind me again. The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows...or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

" _Food?_ " Grover moaned then, voice sounding more animalistic than human. I hushed him absentmindedly.

"Mom, what's he doing? Doesn't he see us?"

"His sight and hearing are terrible," she told me. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough."

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile, before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

 _Not a scratch,_ I remembered Gabe saying. _Oops._

"Percy, when he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way. Jump directly sideways, he can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?" My mother asked me frantically.

"And _how_ do you know all this?" I asked her, voice raising a pitch. I was _not_ going to fight a fucking _bull._

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me." A bellow sounded, and the bull-man started tromping uphill. He'd smelled us, I realized.

Horror grew on my mother's face, identical to mine. The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter. The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

I was certain we were going to die, and my mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover all to herself. "Go, Percy!" She shouted. "Separate! Remember what I said." I didn't want to split up, but I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. We'd reached the crest of the hill, and down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said. The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

His black eyes glowed with hate and he lowered his head, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest. The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. He charged at me suddenly, and I held my ground. At the last moment, I dived to the side and the bull-man stormed past like a freight train.

As he skidded to a stop, he roared with frustration. He turned and I tensed for another jump, but instead of barreling towards me, he moved towards my mother and Grover. I screamed out a warning, and at the same time, three things happened.

One; my mother told me to run, and I knew I never could.

Two; the Minotaur charged, long black horns glistening in the moonlight, and I was terrified she'd be impaled.

And three; a loud _pop!_ sounded from nowhere, and a flash of bright red light erupted from thin air, sending the bull backwards ten feet into a tree with a _CRASH!_


	5. I Call Bull

_**MASTER OF TIME** _

_**Installment One: Percy Jackson and the Olympians,  
The Lightning Thief** _

_**by Tannin & Tele** _

* * *

_Disclaimer: All rights belong to J.K. Rowling and Rick Riordan, voiding that of original content and characters._

* * *

**_CHAPTER FIVE_ **

**I CALL BULL:**

_Long Island, New York_

_"Immobulus!"_ a voice suddenly snapped, a long stream of purple catching the razed tree from descending onto us.

My mother let out a shriek as the Minotaur staggered shakily to his feet, a large, bloody gash marring his forehead. Before the bull could regain it's bearings, a spray of misty blue light cascaded over the Minotaur's torso. His arms and legs instantly snapped together, his expression one of shock as he fell onto the ground, motionless.

The only sound was the howling wind, thunder rumbling above us. I blinked the rain out of my eyes and watched the shadowed figure standing heroically above the monster's fallen shape. My jaw tensed as he tentatively turned towards me, bright eyes abnormally distant.

"Um...hello?" I asked, voice cautious. Harry blinked rapidly, his eyes swiftly roaming up and down my body for injuries.

He expelled a little breath when he found none. "He won't be down for long," Harry spoke quietly. "We need to get you to safety."

At the word _'safety',_ my gaze snapped to my mother, finding her figure hunched in the darkness. Grover's head was cradled in her lap, the satyr shaking from the cold as he dug his head deeper into my mom's dampened nightgown. Harry followed my gaze and without another word, we both bounded over to the couple.

My mom glanced up at us with watery eyes, her hair hanging limp around tear-stained cheeks. I crouched down beside her immediately, wrapping my arms tight around her shoulders. She hugged me just as tightly, petting my hair with murmured sweet-nothings. The non-romantic kind, obviously.

Harry awkwardly averted his eyes, absentmindedly pushing away wet bangs. He waited until we parted before swiftly flicking his wrist without a word. Grover gave a loud snort as he was carefully levitated a few feet into the air, made to hover gently beside Harry's shoulder.

I helped my mother stagger to her feet, her eyes reluctantly leaving mine to land on my friend. "You must be Harry," she croaked, voice raspy as she extended a still-trembling hand. Harry shook it lightly, and she grasped his much smaller hand within hers. "Percy's told me much about you," she said kindly. "Although I don't believe he's gotten around to mention your...special abilities."

"I didn't tell you because I didn't _know,"_ I reminded her in irritation. My mother gave me an indiscreet poke to the stomach, and I tiredly swatted her hand away. We both swiveled our eyes to Harry, who jerked his wand to keep Grover from hitting the ground.

Harry gave us a sheepish smile. "Oops?"

The act of me swatting him upside the head was interrupted by loud, feral groan. Harry's face went drastically pale, and he adjusted Grover to glide along beside us. "That Body-Bind didn't hold as long as I thought it would," he murmured, green eyes squinted. His glassed were fogged and splattered with ran; he took a second to swish his wand, his body rippling with color. Almost immediately, the falling rain seemed to veer away from him, as if he was impervious to it's affects.

I bit my lip to resist asking _how?_

"We need to move!" He told me urgently. "Where's the pine tree, again?"

We hobbled up the hill, my mother tucked under my arm. She was muttering under her breath, but I couldn't catch a word through the thundering storm...and the bellowing bull. Minotaur had roared upon reviving and Harry swore frantically, flicking his arm. Grover sailed over the treeline, depositing lightly on the grass beyond the large pine. "Run, Percy," my mother told me, pushing my arm away. "I can't go any farther."

I immediately began to protest, not noticing Harry's internal panic.

"What do you _mean_ you can't go any farther?" Harry interrupted, voice sharp. My mother shot him a strange look. "I'm mortal," she hurriedly explained. "I can only be invited onto the property by someone with authority already _within_ the camp."

"Does the barrier keep _all_ non-half bloods out?" Harry asked, his eyes wild in urgency.

"I don't-" my mother stuttered, and Harry waved her off dismissively.

"Never mind. It can't _possibly_ -" he took a deliberate step forward past the tree, immediately hitting an invisible barrier. He stumbled back painfully, and I quickly caught him from slipping in the mud. His cheeks went red, from frustration or otherwise, I didn't know.

"It does," my mother confirmed. I nervously chewed my lip, and Harry turned to me, jaw clenched.

"Percy," he said. "You _need_ to go through."

Before I could argue, Harry shoved me through the barrier, ignoring my protests. The Minotaur's figure clambered out from behind a pine tree, before his feet went out from under him. Harry tucked away his wand. "Keep going, Percy," he told me, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Get some help, if you can. I lost the element of surprise, but I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Don't worry about me." He finished, putting a small hand against the barrier. I mirrored his action, and thought I could feel the warmth of his palm if I closed my eyes. But I kept them open, staring into his fiercely bright green orbs.

The moment was broken as the Minotaur roared, and Harry turned, shoulders set in determination. Sparing a glance backwards, he flicked his wand, and the barrier rippled with something bright. "Sense altering charm," he informed my mother. "It blocks his scent, his appearance and any noise he makes. It'll wear off in a bit, but so long as Percy keeps within the camp, he'll be safe.

"Now, be warned, I'm about to cast a protective charm around you. It won't hurt a bit, although it may be...ticklish. Just remember, whatever you see, whatever happens, do _not_ break the bubble." He warned, and my mother nodded reluctantly in ascension. _"Contego,"_ Harry swiftly rapped his wand over my mom's head, causing a glimmering, starry orb to gradually surrounded her.

She gasped at the sensation, fruitlessly slamming her palms against it. The filmy liquid molded against her hands, and Harry gave her a meaningful look. She ceased her protests, clasping her hands nervously. Harry flicked his wand again, dismissing an invisible charm around the two. Everything suddenly became sharp, the rain colder, the wind louder, and their breathing heavier. As if sensing the unnatural magic, thunder rumbled in the distance, and lightning cracked dangerously close.

The Minotaur's ears perked in interest, and as the monster charged them, I ran.

* * *

The sounds of battle echoed in my ears.

Lightning zagged down from the skies, slamming into a distant tree. Sparks flew, and the branches collapsed into fire. I could feel the tremble from here, looking up to the sky as another bolt cracked. I dashed forward, my breath coming in pants. My head felt like it was splitting open- as though Harry had taken his golden sword and sliced my brain in two.

I was weak and trembling as I staggered down toward the lights of the farm-house, futilely attempting to ignore the screams, the roars, and the eerie lights from the peak of the hill.

Finally, _finally,_ I stumbled onto the wooden porch of the farmhouse, slamming clumsily into the screen door and screaming for all I was worth. For extra measure, I knocked. (Yes, _knocking;_ My secret super-power.) The door swung open to reveal a scowling blonde girl, and I opened my mouth to plead, to cry, to grab her and shake her for answers; but before I could, a great rumble came from the skies. The girl gasped.

I whirled on my heel to see Harry's small, shadowed figure erect a bright blue shield above him. He dove to the ground as an enormous blaze of light snapped down from the sky, slicing through the Minotaur's lumbering body. He disappeared in a flash of light, and the forthcoming eruption caused me and the girl- even a half a foot-ball field away- to stumble to the ground. _"Ποπο!"_ the girl swore, and somehow I understood it to mean something similar to _"holy shit!"_

A shower of golden sparks came from my mother's body, and when I looked up from my sprawled position on the ground, I saw nothing but a decimated hilltop and a single, smoldering figure collapsed on the ground.

Somehow, I just knew it wasn't my mother.

The thunder and howling wind suddenly sounded like a mixture of maniacal laughter and sobbing. Someone was crying, the sound full of grief, and before my eyes slipped shut, I knew it was me.

* * *

I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals and angered shouts. I saw green eyes and dark hair, freckles and hoofs, and wrinkled my nose at the smell of wet dog. Or, wet goat, rather. I must've woken up several times, but despite the efforts of my overseer's, I just passed out again.

I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn but with the texture of pudding. The girl with the curly blond hair hovered over me, smirking as she scraped drips off my chin with the spoon. It hurt to open my eyes, but somehow, I managed.

"What will happen at the summer solstice?" the girl hurriedly asked when she noticed I had awoken. I shifted, trying to see her better.

"What?" I croaked, and saw a flash of dark hair by the opened door. "Where...where is he? Where's Harry?"

The girl narrowed her eyes at me, pursing her lips. "Never mind him," she snapped, clearly annoyed. "Tell me, what's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks left!"

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, turning my head into the pillow. "I don't..."

A raised voice came from the hallway, the irritated lilt achingly familiar. "Annabeth!" someone called, and the girl sighed in exasperation. She settled down the cup, and disappeared from my view, muttering _"damned new kids."_

Everything slowly faded into darkness.

* * *

When I finally came around for good, it was to the sharp chirping of birds. I was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch, gazing across a serene meadow. I blinked the sun out of my eyes, and relished in the cool breeze against my skin. Without thinking, I reached for the tall drink sitting on the table besides me.

It looked like iced apple juice, which I wasn't overly adverse to. _Perhaps I'm in heaven,_ I thought, still a bit groggy. _If so, this certainly isn't the worst place to spend the afterlife._ That ideal was shattered as soon as I tried moving.

My hand was so weak that I nearly dropped the glass, cool condensation dripping off my fingertips. My limbs shook with urgency, and I had to take a few breaths to calm myself. "Careful," a familiar voice said, startling me. "That's expensive stuff."

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. He was wearing blue jeans, dirty hi-tops and a bright orange shirt that read _Camp Half-Blood_. Just plain old Grover, not the satyr. I blinked at him.

"You saved my life," Grover said, almost reverently. "You got me across the border-"

"Um, no." I rasped, before clearing my throat. "I didn't save you. It was Harry."

Grover blinked, brow furrowing. "He didn't-"

"He did!" I interrupted, suddenly quite awake. I struggled to rise to my feet. "He saved us! He appeared out of nowhere, and fought the Minot-"

"Don't say it's name!"

"Where's Harry?" I demanded, remembering the flash of lightning. "Where's my mom?!"

"I'm sorry!" Grover shouted, covering his face. "I'm a failure. I'm...I'm the worst satyr in the world." He whimpered, stamping his foot onto the porch. It fell off. I mean, the hi-tops came off, and I saw that the inside was filled with Styrofoam. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbled, struggling to get his cloven hoof into the shoe.

I watched frustrated tears well in his eyes, and took pity on the poor goat-boy. "It wasn't your fault," I soothed, awkwardly leaning forward to pat his skinny, freckled arm. "Whatever happened, it wasn't your fault"

"Yes it _was!_ It's my job to protect you, and at the first sign of monster, I-"

"Get knocked unconscious during a car crash," I insisted, "You couldn't help that!"

"But I-" Grover whined. "I'm a _Protector,_ I'm supposed to-" I frowned at him in confusion and attempted to stand.

"Don't strain yourself!" Grover yelped, leaping forward to push me back into the rocking chair. "Here." He helped me hold the glass, lifting the rim to my lips. I recoiled at the taste, expecting apple juice; but it wasn't. It was so much better. I instantly began chugging it, my whole body bursting with warmth. My muscles relaxed, my heart beat slowed and my eyes fluttered shut in bliss. Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared down into it, positive that I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asked nervously, smiling at the color to my cheeks. "What did it taste like?"

"Sorry," I apologized, feeling guilty. "I should've let you taste."

"No! That's not what I meant. I just...wondered."

"Oh. Chocolate-chip cookies," I told him wistfully, licking my lips. My eyes closed at the remaining taste. "My mom's. Home-made. Something caramel, too...like those beers Harry had snuck into Yancy," I paused, frowning. "Where is Harry, anyways? Is he..."

Grover stiffened, which worried me, before giving a long sigh. "He's not dead, if that's what you mean. _Unfortunately,_ " he muttered beneath his breath. I pretended not to hear, looking back towards the hill. I grimaced at the darkened grass, the burnt tree line and the smoky scent to the air. That lightning strike was horrific, but if Harry managed to survive, maybe my mother... "Well, if he's not dead, where is he?"

A loud crash came from the farmhouse, and Grover winced. I swiveled my head backwards as a muted voice shouted. "How in the name of Zeus did _you_ get out!?" There was the sound of glass being broken.

"Magic, you arsehole," came the muffled response. "Now give me back my wand, or I'll castrate you with my bare hands. See how many demigods you can sire, then!"


	6. Story Adopted

 

I truly loved writing this story (or what I have published, at least) and I've gotten really rave reviews so far, but the Muse has, unfortunately, left me for the time being. I feel absolutely terrible for leaving the story like this, but instead of abandoning it all together, I'm willing to allow another author to adopt my little love child.

It has been decided that Wildtrance (from FanFiction) will be writing the story from here on out.  Wildtrance has, of June 4th 2016, posted the adopted portion of Master of Time at: 

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11974523/6/Master-of-Time-Installment-One-The-Lightning-Thief

**Follow and favorite to get the rest of the story!**

_And thank you, again, to all my wonderful reviewers and avid readers._

 


End file.
